Tush! Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate; Talkers are no good doers: be assured We come to use our hands and not our tongues.

When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.

The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.

His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.

Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds.

New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous (Nay, let em be unmanly), yet are followed.

Coward dogs most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten runs far before them.